


this place, the only one i need to know

by kimaracretak



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, F/F, First Time, Praise Kink, Season/Series 01, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: "Eve's in Paris with Villanelle," Carolyn says, and Elena places her feet in the imprints Carolyn's heels are leaving in the shabby carpet and wishes Carolyn would say,just like you're here with me.
Relationships: Elena Felton/Carolyn Martens
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	this place, the only one i need to know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/gifts).



They're somewhere on the tenth floor of one of MI-6's satellite office buildings when Carolyn's mobile goes off. Elena's honestly a bit surprised they have service here - the rest of the building looks enough like a tomb that it might as well commit all the way - but Carolyn's steps don't falter as she picks it up. Elena thinks about pretending not to listen, but she'd seen E. Polastri on the screen, and she's too curious to try. 

Not that it matters: all she gets is a few _mm-hm_ s and _well then_ s as they weave past empty desks. She's resigned to doing some digging on her own later on, but she gets her answers as soon as Carolyn hangs up.

"Eve's dead," she says briskly, flipping her phone's cover shut and tucking it back into her handbag, and it's a mark of how profoundly the world's gone tits-up in the past few weeks that all Elena does is stare.

"But," she says, a little slower than she'd really have liked, "You were just talking to her." Halfway through the sentence she considers the possibility someone might've stolen Eve's phone, and by the time she's done talking she rather wishes she'd kept her mouth shut.

Carolyn keys them past a thick door Elena's never seen before, neither looking at the numbers nor holding the door for Elena, and Elena tries to not look like she's hurrying to keep up. Easier to do that with her feet than her words, but Carolyn's not looking back to see if she's following, and absolutely is listening to everything she says and doesn't say, and it would feel unfair, if there wasn't so much else going on. "Eve's in Paris with Villanelle," Carolyn says, and Elena places her feet in the imprints Carolyn's heels are leaving in the shabby carpet and wishes Carolyn would say, _just like you're here with me_ , except that's a little bit pathetic and besides, Carolyn's already saying, "I believe, yes, that means she's dead for the purposes of our next few moves."

It's the sort of thing that would give Elena whiplash, if she wasn't becoming used to the contradictions that working with Carolyn necessitated. It's getting easier, and it should be scary but it's Carolyn so it's not, not the way it should be, unless - 

She's lucky Carolyn stops when she does, at the end of the hall. "Wait, wait - you don't really think Villanelle's going to kill her, do you?" She thinks she's doing an okay job of keeping the panic out of her voice, but Carolyn pauses, hand on the doorknob, and just like that she knows it doesn't matter.

"I haven't the faintest," is all Carolyn says, and in the silence afterwards Elena hears every click and scratch of metal on metal as the door opens under Carolyn's hand. "In you go," she says, and Elena hadn't known til that moment just how desperately she had wanted that invitation.

How much she truly believed she would get that invitation.

Carolyn's office is neat, almost unbearably tidy and smaller than Elena had ever imagined. It's nothing like their previous war rooms and everything like approval, from the way Carolyn's watching her with one eyebrow up to the sunset staining London pink and orange over the clouds.

"I need absolute loyalty, Elena," Carolyn says. "I can give you a key to this office, or I can give you a cheque and a transfer to a department of your choice, promotion included. Sixty seconds."

As if she needs even ten. "I'm yours, ma'am," she says, and the words tumble out too quickly, cheeks heating as she presses her thighs together. She watches Carolyn's gaze drop, the small smile at the corner of her mouth, and thinks, well, fuck.

"Interested in more than just the job, then?"

She's not come this far for nothing, isn't fool enough to believe Carolyn would be asking if she didn't already know the answer. "Course," she says. "I have eyes, don't I?"

Carolyn's smile widens, whether it's because Elena's right or because Elena's said it out loud, she couldn't guess, but even that smile feels like a victory - a reward for something she'd only been half-meaning to do, and she can feel her heartbeat between her legs even before Carolyn says, "On the desk, then, knickers off."

Elena's hand is at her waistband before her brain's caught up with the words. "Wait, now?" The door had locked behind them automatically, but the blinds are open.

"Or never," Carolyn confirms. "Either way, unrelated to the question of your job."

And there's no good way for Elena to say that it's not - that Carolyn's approval at work is as good as, _better than_ sex, that she wants both so much she's not sure what she'd do if Carolyn took either offer back now - so instead she does what she's told. Slips her knickers off and only wobbles a bit putting her feet back down, balls up the fabric and shoves it in her purse because she's not stupid enough to try to give them to Carolyn without them being asked for. 

(Carolyn doesn't ask. Elena doesn't ask her to.) 

The desk is dark wood and entirely bare, wide enough that Elena can settle comfortably on it. She spreads her legs as wide as her skirt allows, and it's still not until Carolyn steps between them, rolling up her sleeves with a practised motion, that Elena believes this is really happening.

"Good girl," Carolyn says, as if she's done this a thousand times. She pushes Elena's skirt up, fingertips light against her bare thighs, and Elena bites down on a groan. "I find that one hand behind you and one on the edge of the desk works wonders for these situations."

 _Tell me more about these situations_ , Elena wants to say, but she knows better than to say anything that might stop Carolyn's hands from their purposeful paths along the creases of her hips, the strip of her stomach beneath her skirt's waistband.

Her shirt's still tucked in, she thinks, nonsensically, Carolyn's going to feel the cheap button-down blouse that she'd bought in some airport John Lewis when she was too tired to even contemplate doing laundry. But then Elena looks down, sees exactly what Carolyn Martens looks like with her hands up her skirt, and she doesn't care. Carolyn could rip the shirt to shreds and Elena would thank her for it, as long as she stayed between her legs.

Carolyn takes her time, and Elena had long ago promised herself that she wouldn't beg for Carolyn's attention, wouldn't do anything but her best twice over, but she's been aching for this since longer than she cares to think about, and she curls her leg around Carolyn's calf in a silent question.

"Impatient," Carolyn says, but her hand slides over anyway, three fingers pressed flat against Elena's cunt. She laughs when Elena's whole body tenses in response. "You'd be staining my desk if you weren't still sitting on your skirt."

Elena grins, unashamed. "Your fault, though, yes?"

"Mine indeed." Carolyn doesn't even try to keep the smug note out of her voice as her palm grinds against Elena's clit. "But you're a clever one, figuring that out," she continues, and Elena grips the wood so hard she thinks it might break, trying not to come from the words alone.

Carolyn pauses, looks up with lips parted in a realisation that's not quite surprise, and Elena flushes, caught. "Oh, no, don't say anything," Carolyn says, before any of the half-formed excuses can spill off her tongue, "I wouldn't say it if you didn't deserve it."

Whether it's that that sends her over the edge or the tip of Carolyn's middle finger finally sliding inside her Elena doesn't know, but as she shudders against Carolyn's hand, fumbling back to brace herself against the desk as her back arches into Carolyn's deft touch, she doesn't care.

She has everything she needs.


End file.
